


Terrible Angels

by HeirofFuck



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Character Death, Depression, Half-Sibling Incest, Half-Siblings, Multi, Self-Hatred, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 07:33:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6794869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeirofFuck/pseuds/HeirofFuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the death of their father, more casually known as Bro, Dave and Rose navigate their way through their mother's worsening mental state and alcoholism, friendships, moving, their own struggling emotional state, a massive family secret, and new feelings that should only make them feel sick. Loosely based off the novel Flowers In the Attic. </p><p>"It's not a sin. Not for us. Not really."- Cathy Dollanganger</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing in a while, I apologize for any in-corrections. I hope you enjoy the first Chapter of "Terrible Angels" and be sure to leave your feedback below! :)

It was incredible how quickly the May sun warmed the grey tombstones that surrounded the crowd of black clothed mourners. A warm sunny day, ironic time to have a funeral, but he wouldn't have wanted it any other way. Irony had always been his thing long before he passed the love of it down to Dave. Pollen itched at the blonde-almost white haired-boy's nose as a grey haired priest gave the, what he could presume to be, usual funeral speech. This really was the first one he'd ever been to, and minus his limited knowledge from movies, he could only draw assumptions. Texas air was always hot and dry, but it seemed particularly restricting on his lungs as the priest finished his speech. Maybe it was spring allergies, maybe it was because that was his father they were lowering into the ground. 

Hearing people whisper his father's real name sounded wrong, even foreign to him. Everyone who he'd ever been close to had called him Bro. Dave never really knew the reason why, but had always presumed it was because Bro had been 'just that chill.' In all truth, Bro had been a pretty chill guy, Dave would give him that, but he had been a terrible person. Dave was the living reminder of that. Of his father's terrible deeds, and as he watched them begin to lower his father into the ground, Dave turned his head to look at his sister, who-ironically-looked visibly more upset than anyone else at the funeral. The day had been chalk full of irony, and it didn't look like it would be stopping any time soon. Probably a blessing from beyond the grave from his recently deceased father. 

Rose must've felt him looking at her through his dark shades because in the most silent voice, one only meant for Dave's ears, she murmured. "I wish it had been her." Violet eyes never left the casket having said this. He knew who she was talking about, their mother, who even now smelled faintly of booze. Neither sibling could remember when Rose began to hate their mother, it had been such a constant feeling that it just had always seemed to be that way. Her words sunk into his mind and he almost could have agreed. It was less than a week since Bro's accident and already their mother had tumbled face first back into the alcoholism that seemed to always be nipping at her heels. Bro was the only one who could ever keep her together, and maybe that was why she stayed with him even after what he'd done. The last time, before this week of course, Rose and Dave had seen their mother intoxicated was when they were thirteen. After three years of sobriety, the longest she'd ever made it without a drop of alcohol, she had thrown it all away. It was almost like they were stepping back three years. Their mother's raging alcoholism, Rose's hair was growing out of its pixie cut and back into the style she'd had when they were thirteen-straight across bob cut with straight across bangs-Dave's knack for using sarcasm as a coping method, and Rose's increased hatred for her own mother. The first shovel full of dirt made an empty thud against the brown coffin and he heard their mother stifle a distressed gasp. Whatever the future held for them, he was scared. When Bro was sufficiently buried six feet underground, the funeral prepossession made its way from the large city cemetery and to the home of the deceased, for a late lunch to give their condolences to the unfortunate family. Upon the entrance to their two story upper middle class Texas home, Rose retreated up the stairs, no doubt to her room. Dave didn't follow her. Instead he joined the majority of mourners in the living room, where multitudes of food had been set up. Mostly finger sandwiches, cheese and crackers, fruit salad, and comfort food. Without thought, he grabbed the nearest sandwich not even checking to see what was in it. He wasn't hungry, but he should probably eat anyways. At least, that's what Rose would have told him to do. He and his sister had always been close, and had both silently agreed that at times, it was best to do what the other would suggest. The two were not polar opposites, despite the difference in their genes, but the stark differences between he and Rose had always been acknowledged. Biting into the sandwich, he was pleased to discover it was a nice plain ham and cheese, nothing too strong to kill whatever was left of his dwindling appetite. "Dave." He turned to find John Egbert standing behind him, arm half extended as if he was about to reach out and touch Dave before thinking against it. "Hey." Hearing his own voice for the first time today was disorienting, it didn't sound like his own. It sounded groggy and distant, like he was calling through a fog. he could almost see John carefully select his words before talking. "Are you doing alright?" John Egbert had been Dave's best friend since they were thirteen, another ironic parallel he'd thought up today. Originally the two had met online, not knowing how close they were to each other until they ended up in the same middle school. They'd always been close but since the accident he could feel himself drawing away from, not only John, but all of his friends. He wasn't sure why or how to stop it, and that scared him. "Yeah." Was the only word that he was able to sigh out, despite the churning feelings gnawing at his brain. "I'm taking it one day at a time." John nodded, the concern clear on his face, as he said nothing. His fingers tightened a little bit on the plastic cup he held and he opened his mouth to say something before the sound of glass shattering caused both boys to jump. His mother had dropped her full glass of wine of the tiled kitchen floor, the liquid dark red stretching across cool white stone. She was already drunk. He knew it. He didn't have to hear her voice or see the stagger in her walk to know that, he'd danced this dance before. John must've sensed his best friend's silent distress because he nudged Dave in the shoulder with his own. "C'mon. Let's go outside." The two ventured into the large, green back yard, settling under the shade of a tree. They sat in a comfortable silence, they were passed the point of awkward silences in their friendship. Even though the tree's leaves where thick, the heat was neither comfortable or desirable for either boy. They were not used to hot spring days dressed in dark, black suits. "Your mom's getting worse again isn't she?" "Egbert, just about everyone and their grandmother knows that by now." And even so, hearing John say the words that so frequently fluttered around his head all week long caused a pang of guilt. Thinking it was one thing. Saying it was another, saying it made it real. Blue eyes scanned Dave nervously before John began to try and mend whatever wound he may have just opened up. "You could get her into a program ya know. You could get her help-" "-John you and I both know you can't help someone who doesn't want help." His words where more aggressive than he'd meant them to be, and he watched his friend curl back at the sting. Slowly, Dave began again, with a gentler tone. "She wants to be like this." "Dave? John?" A higher, bubbly sounding voice called out from halfway across the yard, a breath of fresh air in comparison to the hushed low voices at the funeral proceeding. A tall, tanned, dark haired girl stood between the house and where the two boys sat, unsure if she was welcome just yet. Jade Harley was John's cousin, whom he lived with. John's father was the son of Jade's grandfather, and although Jade's grandpa and John's dad had been estranged due to an unfortunate divorce, the two Egberts where welcome into the Harley house hold with open arms, and as far as Dave knew, they all lived very happily. "Anyone clean up my mom's mess yet?" Dave asked, letting Jade into the conversation, she was also one of his very closest friends. They'd even tried dating when they were around fourteen years old, and found that they were better off as friends. He watched Jade tuck her black hair behind her pierced ear and shift her weight. "Some people are helping her pick up the glass, last time I saw." She started to make her way over to Dave and John, sitting across from them under the shade of the lone tree in the sweltering backyard. The trio sat silently for a moment before emerald green eyes started to flick around their surroundings. "Where's Rose?" Her question wasn't directed specifically at him, but Dave answered anyways. "In her room." His tone was indifferent but his shaded eyes looked up to Rose's bedroom window in worry. Her dark purple curtains where closed. The last thing she needed right now was to be alone, sitting in the dark. The rest of the conversation-the rest of the day-continued to be the same static emptiness. Emptiness in words, in conversation, in actions, everyone walked on egg shells around him. They were careful with what they said, what they asked, and when they decided to end the conversation that Dave never seemed very interested in anyways. They all left around dinner time, since dinner would not be included for the guests. John and Jade where the last to leave. Rose never left her room. And as he watched his mom begin to take out the liquor and put away the food he snagged a vegetable sandwich and silently went upstairs, without wishing his mother goodnight. He stopped in front of Rose's room, not bothering to knock as he entered. Looking around, at first it seemed empty save for the black heels discarded carelessly in the middle of the white carpeted floor. Until he noticed the open widow, and the body sitting outside on the roof. The sky was an orange pink, beginning to turn violet leaving a silhouette draped across the glass of the only window in the room. "Can't you knock?" At least he knew she was feeling good enough to be snarky. That gave him a bit of relief as he shut the door behind him and started towards the window. "I brought you dinner." He started, climbing through the frame and situating himself on the roof next to her, facing the backyard. He could see the tree he, John, and Jade had all sat under just a few hours ago. It seemed like years. He turned to look at his pale slender sister and his eyes gravitated towards the clear bottle neck she had between her black painted fingernails. He shouldn't have been surprised, Rose had a habit of copying what she saw when upset. "Where'd you get that." He asked not bothering to hide the obvious concern in his voice. Even he tried to mask his emotions, Rose could always see right through his charades. She looked down at the half empty bottle in her hands. It had not been this empty when she'd first obtained the now lukewarm vodka, but it had not been this full either. "Mom's always been careless." Was all she said in response, leaving Dave to only assume she'd taken the bottle from their unlocked liquor cabinet. She shook her head, white blonde straight hair fanning out around her angled face. "We've lost the only thing that kept it all together." Her voice cracked and it made Dave's heart break. Rose was usually stone when it came to emotions, she was good at hiding them, good at lying. She felt her brother scoot closer to her and he held out a finger sandwich, eyes burning holes into her as he spoke. "It's bad to drink on an empty stomach." It was more of a command disguised as a suggestion. She knew he'd worry himself to death if she didn't eat the sandwich she wasn't hungry for. Tentatively, she took the white bread vegetable sandwich and took a bite, her black lipstick staining the edges of the spongy bread. He watched her eat for a moment before continuing their conversation. "I know. Mom is getting worse. You can't expect me to-" "-David I never expected you to take his place." She pronounced every word with hard intention. How could she expect her brother to be the man of the house, how could she expect him to take Bro's place? "No one could ever take his place. He was the only string that held this shit show of a family together." She bit into the sandwich again, washing it down with another swig from the bottle, the alcohol burning her throat as it went down. Her brother shifted his gaze back to the backyard. "He wasn't that great you know, don't try and put him on a pedestal." He eyed her black painted toes, which dangled a little bit too close to the edge of the roof for his comfort. Her back crushed velvet dress was beginning to reflect the colors of the sunset, they played off her hair and gave her an almost old movie-like aura. Dave could have easily seen her as a vintage starlet if they'd been born a few decades earlier. "He wasn't a god, he was hardly a good person. I'm living proof of that." He was right, she knew he was. But still, that did not change the fact that things where about to take a turn for the worst-it didn't take a fortune teller to know that. She was scared, for the first time in years she was full of fear and so was he. To try and drown the demons that clawed at her stomach, giving her her nothing but doubt, Rose took another long gulp of the Vodka and exhaled through her nose sharply. No matter how many times she'd tasted her mother's alcohol, never had she drank so much of the liquor. She might get drunk. She hoped she did. Dave knitted his light brown eyebrows together as he sat on the roof with his sister, who drank like she was running out of time, watching the day come to an end. For a girl who hated her so much, Rose was beginning to act a lot like her biological mother.


	2. The Twins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glance into the past and a prediction for the future.

To be completely honest, he was more thankful for the frozen casserole in the refrigerator than he was for the kinda thoughts and words of their worried neighbors. Mom had been constantly drunk for about three days straight now, now approaching four. She would probably be comatose until late noon, when she woke up. If it weren't for the food neighbors and family friends kept giving them, he and Rose would have probably starved by now. He cut a piece from the glass tray that held half a frozen green bean casserole and found a plate to microwave it on. Rose hadn't been drunk since the night of their father's funeral, where he had to rock her to sleep on their roof while she sobbed in his arms. He'd stayed up all night holding her, what else could he really have done? She spent the majority of her time watching TV, reading, and wandering their home in the early morning when she knew their mother wouldn't be awake yet. Her eyes were cold and empty with everything she did, everything except read that is. Dave figured it was like an escape, like she could escape her life for just a little while through thick fictional stories whether it was of knights and kings or middle aged women having illicit love affairs. It took her away from the life that had been involuntarily assigned to her. 

The microwave beeped three times before he reached in and took out the now warm plate of casserole. He made a mental note to do the dishes soon, as the pile of dirty ones was beginning to build up in the kitchen sink. It occurred to him that he and Rose would probably have to start taking care of the house by themselves, since their mother was indefinitely intoxicated. Well, Rose's mother, that is. She was not Dave's biological mom. Bro had really been a despicable man in life, he really had. So much so that the douche bag had managed to get two women pregnant around the same time, one was his wife, the other an unknown woman. And as irony would have it, both children were born on the same day-though Rose's mother had gone into labor two weeks earlier and Dave had already been born as Rose was in the process. Bro never told David anything about his biological mother, he always danced around the question whenever Dave had been bold enough to ask. And now it was likely that he'd never know. It wasn't all bad, Mom didn't hate him. She never tried to hard to bond with him when he got older, but in his early childhood she'd been a good enough mother. Growing up everyone would just call Dave and Rose the twins, though they were half siblings both shared the same birthday and platinum hair both of their parents possessed. Unless it was a close friend, no one ever knew Dave and Rose weren't actually twins, there was no need to bring up their father's act of infidelity. Dave was pretty sure most of their neighbors truly believed Rose was his twin sister. 

Pulling out a chair, the wooden legs creaked against the tile floor of the kitchen. He sat down next the a blotchy red stain on the floor. The remains of the wine that just couldn't seem to come out of the tile. He stuck a fork into the casserole still thinking about the past, trying to convince himself that the family was already fucked long before Bro's death. That things couldn't change that drastically. 

He'd often wondered why his 'mother' stayed with Bro after that. Maybe it was because Bro was the only one who could bring her back when she went over the brink and fell back into old, alcoholic, habits. He liked to think they actually loved each other although the two had a funny way of showing it. His mom was clearly distraught about her husband's death, so he knew she at least cared a little bit. Maybe she just had a strange way of showing her love. To Rose and Dave she was never much of a nurturer. She mostly became disinterested in Dave when he and Bro drew closer. She would occasionally kiss his forehead before going to bed, but it was clear that every time David got a little too close to her, he could see his presence unintentionally hurt her. She and Rose had a passive aggressive game they had been playing since Rose was about eleven. Now this strange woman they called Mom was their only guardian left, and she was passed out drunk in her room. 

As Dave finished his plate and was about to begin to wash the dirty dishes, Rose walked into the room, still wearing her pajamas. Black sleeping shorts and a plain royal purple t shirt. Her hair was currently still recovering from bed head and as she walked into the kitchen barefoot Dave couldn't help but snicker. His sister was hardly ever untidy, never mind just plain lazy. He knew it was probably due to grief but it didn't seem to count as mean when he was going through the same emotions. She shot him a dangerous glare from the refrigerator before her thin arm tugged it open, and she scanned the content. "We aren't going to be able to live off casseroles forever. Sooner or later one of us will have to do a grocery run." She knew their mother was in no condition to even consider grocery shopping. Why, she and Dave had been doing the household chores for the past three days, and it didn't seem like that pattern would be ending any time soon. "I'll clean the dishes if you do the shopping." Dave offered turning on the sink, rushing water sputtering into the metal basin. Rose gave a silent nod of agreement before taking out a bowl of pasta salad. She propped herself up on the kitchen counter, sitting on the edge as her long lithe legs dangled in the air. She looked down as she spoke. "Could you hear her again last night?" "Yeah." His answer came all too quickly. For the past two nights the twins had heard their mothers tantrums from inside her room. Late at night she would scream and sob, sometimes the sound of crashing could be heard, neither sibling had checked her room to see exactly how trashed it was. She would scream about how she hated this house. How she couldn't live here, not with Bro's memory at every turn. Rose had reassured Dave that this was a natural reaction to a family death. But something about his mother's cries seemed threatening.

He turned to face his half sister, who's legs where tucked beneath her, leaning over a bowl of pasta salad, very focused on keeping one stray noodle from dropping out of her mouth. She'd be DAMNED if she let that thing hit the floor! With her violet eyes almost crossed as she honed in on said prey, she was actually sort of endearing. A small moment in time that didn't feel real, one where she was not as cold as stone. Where she was not deadly and serious. When she was not somber but endearing. The threat of a smile played across Dave's closed lips before she looked up at him, as if she knew his thoughts and he reverted his gaze, although she couldn't tell due to his dark shades, he'd done it out of habit. "What?" Her voice sounded as if she were child with her hand caught in the cookie jar. She had a wall she liked to put up, even in front of her own sibling. And he knew that, he'd seen her with her guard down on rare occasions but for the most part accepted that she would probably never really open up to anyone. "Nothing." Dave shook his head, and turned to the sink full of dirty dishes, sighing heavily and wishing he could put what he was thinking in words. But it didn't come out in words, it was expressed in colors, music, feelings. Guilty feelings. Grievous feelings. And he didn't understand why. The rest of the week continued that way. One Sunday, Rose went on a grocery run with one hundred dollars delicately plucked from the credit card their mother consistently left unattended. Unfortunately, she brought home a majority of her usual gross vegan bullshit, but in all honestly, vegeburgers weren't that bad. Sure, he had to smother the bitch in ketchup but it wasn't that bad. Or at least as bad as he'd been expecting. They had developed a schedule when the second week began to roll around. They would wake up late, go about their lives until around noon, where they would both make lunch (although it was mostly Rose doing all the work while Dave stood around on his phone, or rambling on about something sarcastic) and then either play video games or watch movies until their mother would wake up and start to wander the house, gravitating towards the liquor cabinet. Rose would escape to her room and Dave would manage to avoid his mother before she got too bad. By the time he could hear her begin to cry he booked it upstairs before the anguished yells began. He and Rose would generally stay up until the early am, talking about their mother, what was going to happen to them, and what they were going to do. What were they going to do? What could they do? Neither of them knew.


End file.
